


Fire Up The Night

by thisisfaycountri



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:09:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25102948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisfaycountri/pseuds/thisisfaycountri
Summary: Tony reminisces about how he got together with Harry while Harry serenades him on stage.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 146
Collections: Marvelously Magical Bingo 2020





	Fire Up The Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for MMF2020 Bingo  
> G5, Performer AU.  
> The italics in this fic is a song called Fire Up The Night by New Medicine. I labeled this fic a song fic only because I ended up using it so heavily, that was not my prompt.

“ _It was Quarter past two when I started feeling blue, I never tell the truth, I was thinking about you_ ,”

I grin as Harry begins singing, watching him sway the crowd with his words, with his slow drawl, with his eyes. His hair was a mess and sticking to him, his shirt was nearly sweat through. I knew by the end of the song it would be coming off. He was energetic, he was engaging, he was a hit.

He wasn’t when I first met him. Hell, when I first met him he was a one man band with a guitar and a beautiful voice, singing on the street for money. I later learned he didn’t need to, but at that point I’d barely glanced at him.

  
Green had caught my vision and I’d been lost. I paused, pulled out a twenty, and dropped it in his case, all the time while never breaking eye contact with this singing angel. He’d grinned through his song, never pausing, never missing a beat.

  
I started walking that way to my favorite bakery nearly every day, despite Happy’s displeasure. When I saw that he was going to be performing at a coffee shop, I went. When he started getting bigger and opened for other bands, I went. When he had his first concert on the other side of the city, I went.  
  
I didn’t approach him until his third concert, and his second album, coming out. I was captivated by his voice and his words, and I finally worked up the courage to talk to him. By then he wasn’t singing on the streets anymore. He was doing interviews, he was getting bigger. And our first interaction hadn’t gone well.

  
“ _You left a little scar and I wonder where you are, I’m coming to my car and I’m headed to the bar_.”

  
Yes, I’d left a scar on his arm from where I’d tripped and shattered the glass I’d been caring against his reaching arms. He’d tried to catch me and I’d cut him. He’d gone to the hospital and I’d gone to my favorite bar to get over my mortification. He still hasn’t let me live that down, citing it as our meeting story every time someone asks.

  
“ _I listen to a lonely boy in a lonely world and yes I know it’s true, I close my eyes and I find you_.”

  
As if on cue he glances up, and despite not knowing where I was he met my eyes unerringly. I grin, flicking a nonchalant wave at him and he winks. I was in the stands, the best way to enjoy the show. Despite that horrifying meeting I still came to his concerts, now all around the world. I went to his album release parties, his song drops, his live performances, every interview. When he won awards I was, embarrassingly, on the short list of people he always dedicated them to. Somehow, we made this crazy thing work. I’d been completely stunned when he first informed me that he was writing me a song. And while I’ve heard it a hundred times, live, on the radio, murmured in my ear as we’re in bed, it still made my heart beat faster.

  
“ _Lick my poison young, now I got you on my song, you whisper I’m the best while you finger on my chest_ ,”

  
He’d sung it at our first anniversary while dating. He sung it for me when I came back from a mission bruised and broken. Without the band it was a soothing promise, he was sweeter, more melodic. He hummed it in the car with me as I faded to sleep. He’d quote the lyrics in a text to me while I was in a board meeting. The man was insane and despite writing me a dozen new songs, this one seemed to be his favorite.

  
“ _I close my eyes and I’m with you. I’m yelling you the whole night through! IN the middle of the night when I dream of getting you, Grab my hairs going crazy thinking what I’d do to you. I’d rip off all your clothes as I’m breaking down the door, I’d make you beg for more as I pin you to the floor_.”

  
He held eye contact because he knew, he knew I blushed every time the chorus came up. He’d admitted freely that the song was mostly about us going at it in bed, but it held so much more meaning to us now…

  
“ _‘Cause you’d be screaming oh, oh oh baby don’t stop no no, no no, we can fire up the night, make me feel alive_ …”

  
He did.

  
Until we’d gotten together I had just been walking through life. My friends were worried, my adopted family was worried, I was worried. I didn’t feel much until I made eye contact that day with him. He breathed a life into me. He rekindled the fire and drive for life I wanted, needed, to move on, to get help, to live again. And I’d done the same for him. In the quiet of the night as he murmured about battle losses, about evil lords and manipulative headmasters and fluffy haired, loyal best friends and gangly limbs and red hair, I helped him live again too. Eventually I met the friends, Hermione, who had immediately been fascinated with my workshop and Ron, who’d been enamored with Thor almost immediately. That had been the day he told me he loved me.

  
“ _I couldn't tell you why but I’m yours until I die. In the middle of the night when I dream of getting you_ …”

  
This, this was the portion I’d never forget. Not because it had a meaning when he wrote it. It was just a line.

  
But he’d whispered it my ear while we’d been reclining on the beach at my house in California, and he’d slipped his arm around me to show the band he’d painstakingly picked out, and I will have those words burned into my brain because he’d dropped to one knee and-

  
“ _Make me feel alive-_ “

  
He did, every day, in every way-

  
“ _Fire up the night-_ “

  
He was mine, for the rest of my life, and his matching band screamed that to the world and-

  
“ _Fire up the night-“_

  
We were a crazy match but we fit and I couldn’t dream of another and-

  
“ _Fire up the night_!”

  
He was fierce and loyal and could light my flame with a look, and I loved him.

  
“As some of you know, that song was originally written for my then boyfriend, now husband, Tony Stark. I don’t say this often on stage, But, I love you, and Happy one year babe.” His wink and wave had people screaming, and I watched him begin another song and couldn’t wait for him to get off the stage.

  
Because then we _could_ start firing up the night.


End file.
